


Granpa Patrick

by Psychopersonified



Series: Life of Herbie [5]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, Growing up AI, Humour, M/M, Meeting the Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:27:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27175867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psychopersonified/pseuds/Psychopersonified
Summary: Q's creation, Herbie the spy robot - a less intimidating extension of his Shadow Network AI is starting to become self-aware.More Herbie shenanigans. Growing up AI.James has an unconventional introduction to Q's father.Herbie goes mad for a shaggy dog.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Series: Life of Herbie [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1880308
Comments: 42
Kudos: 177





	Granpa Patrick

Christmas

**Q-Branch**

The problem with having more time to hang out in Q-Branch was that his aura of mystery was quickly wearing off. The minions down in the basements were becoming too familiar with him and they were finding out that he wasn’t as intimidating as his reputation might suggest.

Nish even said it to his face; that just underneath that crusty seasoned operative exterior was a mushy core that sometimes oozed out. His soft smile when Q looks at him a certain way or when Herbie does something adorable were dead giveaways that he wasn’t an as psychopathically inclined as Dr Epstein’s report make him out to be. Either that or he hides it very well. 

Whatever the case, it meant that Q’s senior minions have lost their initial fear of him. His changing role within the organisation from field operative to strategic operations planning also meant that their perception of him on the ‘badass’ scale was sliding away from the Double-O side of things towards the dreaded political jostling Bureaucrat zone. 

It didn’t help matters that they also saw him as Herbie’s dad. The chatty little bot had a disproportionately happy reaction to him whenever he came to collect Q and Herbie at the end of the day. Herbie’s burst of excitement at seeing him is invariably accompanied by a brief but clattery skip-hop around whatever surface it happened to be on before climbing up his sleeve to his shoulder to tell him about its day in the lab. The minions have dubbed it Herbie’s “Daddy’s Here!” dance and swore that he was the only person the robot graced with the little dance - much to his internal satisfaction, though he’d never admit it. 

Happy as he is with the current arrangements, he’s cognizant that he’d gone from suave tuxedo-wearing sexpot with a licence to kill - to a middle-aged dad in what felt like a blink of an eye and he’s feeling somewhat conflicted bout it.

“Are you going to be a while longer?” He asks the Chief Boffin. He treats Q with a brief massage on the back of the neck, strong thumbs digging into the pressure points before running a hand down the straight back. 

“Mmm… maybe another hour.” Nothing unusual there, Bond usually waits in the lounge catching up on work. 

“Need a refill?” He’d already swiped the empty mug off the table. 

“Ta, with sugar please…” Q takes a moment to assess the situation before telling him, ”This feels like a two sugar problem.” 

Bond just smiles at that. The patented Q-Branch method of fixing problems is to throw sugar and caffeine at it until something works. Bond decides he’ll bring Q a couple of biscuits in as well, hopefully, it’ll speed up the process. 

On his way out, he passes R who’s working on the problem too. She inches her mug with the blunt end of her stylus towards the edge of the table and shoots him a cheeky grin. He side glares at her but picks up the mug anyway. _Fine, just this once._

Next to her, Jamila notices the exchange and holds up her travel mug to him as well. _What the—_ “Three sugars and a spoonful of cream for me,” smirking as she places her order. 

Bond makes a face but politely accepts the proffered mug. Then to the room he asks, “Would anyone else like a top-up while I’m at it?” his offer drips with sarcasm and the warning in it is crystal clear, daring the rest of them to try. 

Nish’s suicidal audacity catches him by surprise. The senior boffin waves his mug at Bond, “Coffee for me. Double shot. Two sugars and a splash of milk. Thanks.”

Bond is close to snarling at Nish as he snatches the mug out of his hands. Josh looks like he’s about to try his luck too but thinks better of it when he catches sight of Bond’s narrowed cold blue eyes. 

——

Once in the pantry, Bond gives all the mugs a cursory rinse. They’ve got another thing coming if they think he’s going to wash the dammed cups, especially Nish’s coffee-stained mug. 

He tosses a teabag into each mug, not really caring if he’s got the order right. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a robotic critter climb up the counter. 

Herbie toddles up to him. 

:: 007 make tea? Green tea for Josh ::

 _The sneaky bastards._ They knew full well that he couldn’t tell Herbie to bugger off. He’s going to make sure this is the last time they try getting at him through Herbie. 

:: Herbie make tea too? :: The little bot is oblivious to the power play unfolding between 007 and the minions, and asks like a child wanting to be helpful. 

Bond sighs, “Alright. Wash your hands first.”

Herbie skips to the faucet and holds up two front legs waiting for Bond to turn on the tap. Bond obliges and pumps a little soap to give Herbie a quick washdown. He says hands - but really, the bot loves getting into things, so its best to give Herbie a once over clean before letting it handle food. The kettle comes to a boil just as they finish drying Herbie off and Bond fills the mugs with hot water. 

The helpful assistant bot sets an internal timer for the optimum steeping duration before whistling at Bond to remove the bags once it’s done. Then it moves on to the sugar orders. For a tiny bot, Herbie is surprisingly deft at manipulating objects. It manages to pop open the sugar tin with ease and retrieve the cubes - diligently plopping them into the mugs one by one. 

Bond lets Herbie deal with the very important job of doling out the sugars whilst he moves on to Nish’s coffee. He bypasses the full percolator jug - no fancy ground coffee for him. He fills Nish’s mug with instant coffee instead. 

As he fills the mug with hot water, he spies the salt shaker on the counter and cracks a smile…. A heaped teaspoon of salt into Nish’s coffee and Josh’s tea should teach them for being cheeky. 

Bond sneaks it in a while Herbie is preoccupied. Then helps Herbie stir the drinks. To complete the effect he brings out the tea tray and arranges all the mugs and biscuits on it, then drapes a neatly folded tea towel over his arm and lets Herbie jump on before taking the whole assembly back to the project room. 

He serves the drinks in an excessively servile manner - causing some alarm among the boffins. When he finally gets to Nish and Josh, the senior Boffin regards the coffee with trepidation. 

“Well, go ahead,” Bond challenges him pleasantly, “The little fella helped make that. Didn’t you Herbie?” 

Watching from its tea towel rest on Bond’s arm, Herbie nods proudly. 

:: Nish like coffee? ::

The bot asks expectantly. 

“Uh… I’m sure it tastes yummy!” Nish assures the bot with forced cheer. 

“You won’t know until you try it,” Bond grins sharkily, ”Isn’t Nish silly?” He asks Herbie. 

:: Nish drink. Josh drink :: Herbie encourages them.

“Big gulps now… wouldn’t want to hurt the little guy’s feelings now would we?” Bond tells them seriously. 

Nish and Josh exchange a look and resigns to reap what they sow. 

*Ack!* Josh manages to swallow the salty tea but for Nish, it goes down the wrong pipe and he sputters. 

“Mmm… yummy!” Josh heaps false praise through a plastered on smile. Nish gives Herbie two thumbs up despite not being able to breathe. 

“See, they love it,” Bond assures Herbie. Then to the boffins, he drops the veiled threat as he leaves, “I’m sure they’ll be asking for more later.”

—————————

**Quartermaster’s Residence**

“What’s on your mind?” James asks, carding his fingers through the soft wavy hair. They’re snug on the sofa, all of them, cats included, watching Attenborough narrate his way around Antarctica. Spot is in Q’s lap, kneading and purring away, Herbie buried somewhere in his fur. Jellicles curled around James’ neck washing his paws fastidiously. 

He nuzzles the area just behind Q’s ear. “You’ve been quiet all day,” he points out. 

Q picks at a loose thread from his pyjamas, hesitant. He’s not sure how to approach this. “It’s going to be Christmas in a few weeks.” 

“Mmm… hadn’t noticed,” James snarks, as if the city wasn’t already decked out in Christmas decorations. “Common out with it,” he jostles Q to prompt him.

“What are your plans for the holidays?” Q tries to be nonchalant about it. They’ve been living together for nearly a year and this would be the first Christmas together - if they were to spend it together that is. They haven’t discussed it. With no family to speak of, and if he were to keep his habit, Bond would likely be wanting to spend the holidays somewhere warmer. Matera may be or the French Riviera. 

With Christmas so close and James hadn’t brought it up or invited Q along, Q had assumed he wanted to spend it alone. Which was disappointing, but it might work out for the best this year.

“Took you long enough to bring it up,” James smirks knowingly. 

Q slides down the sofa to lie across James’ lap. “You’re an arsehole, you know that?” Spot protests at being interrupted in his bread-making with a soft *Mrrrp....*

“I’ve been told.” He adjusts to more comfortably accommodate Q’s shift in position, then lay a hand over the younger man’s thigh.

“Do you want to go somewhere warm?” He suggests, stroking down Q’s thigh.

“Oh, I’m invited am I?” Q replies sarcastically, looking up at him. 

“Who is being the arsehole now? Of course, I want to spend Christmas with you. I hadn’t suggested any plans because I assumed you wanted to spend the holidays with your family,” Not that he was terribly keen on meeting Q’s family but it was the respectful thing to do. However Q hadn’t even brought it up, so he’d assumed the younger man wasn’t ready to introduce him yet. 

“About that... how do you feel about meeting my father?” Q ventures cautiously. 

“In Geneva?” he knew Q’s father was working on the LHC around the French-Swiss border. 

“No, he’s decided to spend Christmas in London this year.” 

Blonde eyebrows climb in surprise, “Well I suppose it’s about time.”

“He usually stays with me when he’s in town,” Q supplies the next bit of info. 

Eyebrows climb higher. 

Q looks away, then runs a thumbnail along the inside seam of James’ sweatpants, “I haven’t told him about us yet…” finally getting to the point. It’s a loaded statement but Q doesn’t elaborate the reason, but James is pretty sure he knows why. 

“Do you want to? I’m committed to this if that’s what you’re worried about.” He reassures Q again. Q needs that - not often, but time to time, the boffin is not inherently insecure, but Bond is aware of his own track record and reputation. He adjuncts the brief reassurance with physical contact, alternating between running his fingers through Q’s hair and stroking down the boffin’s side. 

A minute later, the younger man looks up at him again earnestly, ”Are you sure? Dad is a little eccentric.” 

“Can't be any worse than what I have to put up with now…” James smiles down at him. 

“Oi…” Q jabs him in the abs with a finger. 

—————

**The week before Christmas…**

The scratching noise at the door cues him to the break-in attempt. That and the proximity sensor flashing a warning and sending the video feed directly to the tablet mounted on the wall next to the kitchen. 

Walther securely in his hand, he watches through the tablet as the would-be intruder pries open the electronic lock cover with an insulated tool, deftly circumventing the secondary security measure and avoid getting a nasty shock. The man then teases the wires from inside the lock, quickly stripping some of them with a tool from his pocket and crossing them. 

Next to the man, a large shaggy English Sheepdog watches perplexed. The dog paws at the door, making the scratching noise again. The man signals the to the dog for silence with a finger pressed to his lips. 

Bond tilts his head, false alarm. He re-holsters his gun. He’d just arrived home from a meeting at the Foreign Secretary’s office, and is still in his work clothes. This could get interesting. Q isn’t home from Vauxhall yet and his father appears to be a few days early. How much exactly did Q tell his father about him? 

Outside, Patrick tinkers around a bit more - cursing audibly as his efforts are thwarted by his son’s work. 

“Impossible! Quark, how do you think he did it?” the dog whines back in response. “Yes, I think so too. He’s gotten too smart for us these days… but, I refuse to be beaten. Hah!” A final flick of the wrist… and the lock stays firmly in place. The triggered alarm, however, is a different matter. It starts beeping the countdown warning that precedes the actual blaring siren. 

“Oh, oh…” Patrick freezes. Quark takes a step back from the door whining, she clearly understands what the sound meant too. 

Flicking the alarm off, Bond quirks a smile. Then he crosses the flat to answer the highly unconventional arrival. 

After he disengages the locks and flings open the door, he comes face to face with a tall wiry man with unruly salt and pepper hair. 

“Ah…’” Patrick grins sheepishly. The two men stare at each other a second more. 

“Good evening. You must be Patrick.” Bond greets genially, extending a hand. “James.”

Patrick takes his hand politely, somewhat shocked. “Oh yes! Yes… Collin said something about a boyfriend,” he recalls presently. “Must have slipped my mind. Though I was expecting someone younger…“ Patrick trails off, eyes sliding down the holster Bond was still wearing to the tucked away gun.

Quark steps forward to sniff at Bond. Then she sticks her head through the doorway and sniffs the air. She must have taken whiff of the cats. 

Bond doesn’t take offence, Patrick didn’t seem to mean anything by the comment other than a surface observation. And he has the same absent-minded quality about him that he has passed on to his son. “Won’t you come in?” he invites, stepping away from the door. 

“Yes. Thank you.” There is some awkward shuffling as Bond helps him with the bags and a large dog carrier. Once inside, Patrick heads straight for the guest room, not needing to be shown around. Bond leaves him to it - unsure of his role in this situation. Is he the host or the guest? 

Instead, he watches Spot and Jellicles scatter up the kitchen counter as soon as they see the rolly polly dog. Quark rears up onto the counter after them. They all sniff each other tentatively. 

Bond looks on cautiously, ready to act if needed. He’s not sure how the cats take to having a large dog in their space. She seems friendly enough. 

Upon his return, Patrick must have sensed the tension, “Oh don’t worry, they’ve all met before. Takes a few minutes for them to remember and recognise each other. They’ll be fine once they’ve sniffed each other out.”

True enough, the cats relax into sitting positions and Jellicles start to paw at Quark’s nose. She, in turn, huffs at him playfully. 

“Now how about a spot of tea?” Patrick suggests, moving to fill the kettle without waiting for an answer. 

—

“Here you go,” he places the steaming mug of tea in front of Bond. 

More awkward silence at they both sip at their tea. He doesn’t usually drink tea, but it seemed impolite to refuse. 

“So… what do you do James?” Patrick tilts his chin toward the obvious weapon Bond still has strapped on. 

Bond demures politely, “What did Collin tell you?”

“Not much to be honest. Said the two of you met at work. And he’s guarded about that as well, so I’ve got not much to go on,” Patrick sighs dramatically. 

Internally he searches for what he can tell - they were supposed to go over it tonight before Patrick’s arrival. 

“But… I’m not stupid. And I’ve got means of finding things out on my own,” he wiggles his eyebrows knowingly. He puts down his mug and regards Bond seriously.

“That security system—“ he points to the door, “—gets more advanced every visit I make. Why would he need that?” the question is rhetorical. “He’s certainly not doing it just to make a point to me.”

“Then there are his electronics, EM shielded. Encrypted data, redundancies everywhere. His phone runs customised software. A father gets suspicious. Tell you the truth, I was beginning to worry that he’d fallen into those cuckoo conspiracy theorists cults.” 

“Now he brings home a man from ‘work’—,” he air quotes, “—who’s obviously handy around a weapon and moves like he could kill a person 23 ways… yet is too well dressed and disciplined to be a common thug. You sir, practically scream military,” Patrick raps the surface of the table conclusively with his knuckles, excited by his own deduction.

Bond nods impressed. Patrick is definitely as clever as his son. “All observations on point Mr Holmes,” he compliments the man. 

Patrick puts a finger to his mouth and taps on lips, regarding Bond more carefully. “If I had to speculate… I’d say MI5,” He guesses confidently. 

_Oh so close._ But so off the mark. Bond just smiles and nods his head, non-committal. 

Patrick’s expression drops. “Bah! Surely not MI6?” he reads Bond accurately and corrects his guess. He’s shocked, his son - a career in espionage? And who is this man sitting at the dining table with him? A spy? It would explain everything! 

Bond can see the older man’s rising excitement. Individual responses towards spies and the business of espionage differ from country to country depending on politics. It ranges from gleeful titillation to outright terror and everything in between. Patrick is lucky enough to come from a liberal society and has little to fear so predictably, he falls into the excited and curious spectrum. 

“Patrick—“ Bond is about to say something to quell the older man’s excitement when the front door jiggles and then opens. 

“James, was there something wrong with the lock? Please tell me you didn’t try to disarm— Dad??” Q stares in surprise. 

“Hullo son,” Patrick grins from the dining table. Bond does the same. 

“You’re early!” Q sputters, dropping his bag onto the chair next to the door. Quark comes by to say hello too, her tail swishing back and forth. 

“Yes, I am. A good thing too. Gives me time to get to know James here before you tell him nonsense about me.” 

“Too later for that,” James chuckles. 

“Dad, did you try to disarm the lock? I told you not to try that, it’s dangerous,” Q admonishes as he bends down to give Quark a good scritch behind her ears. She licks his jaw in recognition. 

“Hah! I spotted that nasty secondary layer deterrent as soon I as popped open the cover.”

“Alright… did you manage to get past it?” Q challenges his stubborn father. 

Patrick makes a disgusted face, “You’ve wired it all wrong!”

“Or, I’ve wired it all RIGHT and you just can’t figure out how,” Q rolls his eyes at his father. He sheds the coat he was wearing and hangs it up by the door. 

Herbie chooses the moment to pop out of his pocket. Both Q and James’ phone ping simultaneously. Then Herbie starts to whistle, beep and boop excitedly. 

:: LION ::

:: House lion ::

:: Q bring Herbie house lion? ::

Q is confused a moment before realising Herbie is talking about Quark. She’s in desperate need of a haircut and is certainly as shaggy as a lion. She’s also about the size of Herbie’s massive stuffed toy lion. 

“No Herbie. Quark is a dog.”

:: Dog-lion ::

“No. A dog,” Q corrects patiently. 

:: Lion-dog :: Herbie is adamant.

“Just dog.”

:: Quark-dog ::

“Close enough,” Q gives up. Pick your battles with your AI, that’s what he’s learnt. He lets Herbie down on the dining table so that he can unwind the scarf around his neck. Herbie scutters quickly over to James as soon at it sees Patrick - skirting around the unfamiliar human. The little bot hides shyly under James’ palm. 

“What. On. Earth - is that?” Patrick whispers to both of them. 

“That - is Herbie. You’re not supposed to know about it by the way.”

“Sure. Sure,” Patrick waves the warning away trying to sneak a peek at Herbie. He is intensely curious. “A machine learning robot? You were talking to it.”

“Yes… among other things.”

“Are you still trying to make your imaginary friends come to life? Like you did as a child,” Partick shoots Bond a look as if to say _-He’s a weird one. You sure bout this?-_

“You always were an odd one,” he continues under his breath. 

“Dad!” Q warns from the kitchen. 

“Ok.ok…,” he placates his son. Then turning his attention back to Herbie, he offers a finger in greeting, “Hey there, little fella. How are you?”

“Herbie, this is Patrick - my father. Do you want to come out and say hello?,” Q makes the official introductions as he refills the kettle. 

Herbie peeks out tentatively, reaching a front leg out to touch the proffered finger. It looks adorable, but Q knows Herbie has just scanned Patrick’s fingerprint and is trying to cross-match it to all databases it has access to. It then darts back under the protective cover of James’ palm. 

Suddenly Patrick’s phone pings :: Hello Q father - Patrick ::

The old man is beside himself with delight. Gesturing excitedly to his phone. 

“Don’t— ask how,” Q nips the question he knows is coming in the bud. 

“Fine. So full of secrets…,” Patrick bemoans disappointedly and scrunches his face at his son. “What is it supposed to be? Some sort of crab? A beetle?”

“A spider,” Q joins them at the table after making himself tea. 

Herbie takes exception to their speculation and peeks out again to beep at them.

:: Herbie, butterfly :: The AI corrects everyone. 

Patrick arches an eyebrow, “Son, I think you’ve stuffed up some major programming there.”

“Daaad…” Q rolls his eyes at the jibe about his skills. 

Herbie turns on the screen on its back to show an animation of a pair of beautifully ornate butterfly wings unfurling in high definition.

“Herbie made those itself from composites of thousands of photos and videos,” Q explains. 

“Oh, my… aren’t they pretty? I stand corrected,” Patrick places a hand over his heart, indulging the AI. 

Herbie decides at that moment that Patrick checks out, and ventures out further towards the old man with the crazy hair. It starts scrolling tough the selection of carefully made animations it has in its gallery, waiting expectantly for Patrick’s reaction to all of them. 

——

“Feeling ignored?” Q asks Bond as they do the dishes after dinner.

“Hmm, a little. Not that I mind that your old man has his attentions preoccupied with something else other than trying to guess what I do for a living.”

Patrick is in the sitting room armchair, overgrown sheepdog in his lap and having a running conversation with Herbie on his shoulder about everything and nothing. Q knows the little bot wants nothing more than to dive into the dog’s excessive fur but is still too shy to ask yet. 

“Are you going to turn out like that in a few decades?” James makes a gesture about his head - miming the wild hair. 

“Funny. At least I know I’ll still have hair,” Q sticks his tongue out at him. 

——

**_Next morning…_ **

“Hey little fella, you awake?” Patrick blows gently at the ‘sleeping’ bot on its charging pad. He’d snuck into Q’s office under the pretence of looking for a charging cable and whilst in there, ‘happened’ to check up on the bot. Both his son and the ex-military boyfriend is still asleep this early on a holiday morning. No sense bothering them yet. 

Herbie unshutters one camera eye to peek at him. “Want to go for walkies with Granpa and Quark?” Patrick suggests enticingly. 

:: Granpa :: The wide lens camera eye goes into focus.

:: Quark-dog :: The lidar sensor eye unshutters

:: Walkies:: The screen on its back boots up. 

Herbie takes 0.821 of a second to make up its mind, popping its little legs out from under it before leaping straight onto Patrick’s open palm. 

——

Three hours later, they’re back from their walk. Patrick has breakfast ready on the table and is reading on his tablet.

They’d gone to the park to let Quark run around and play in puddles. Herbie had clung on to her collar for most of the walk, enjoying the thrilling ride on the lion-dog. They’d investigated countless bushes and trees. And Herbie had lost its first fight to a squirrel it found in a tree nook. The irate squirrel, woken up from his nest in a nook by an unwitting Herbie had chased the spider bot round and round the trunk before managing to evict Herbie out of his tree. 

Herbie went sailing through the air to land in the soft mulch at the base. Fortunately, Quark came to the rescue, retrieving the bot in her mouth and returning it to Patrick. So all in all, a great morning adventure for everyone. 

“Morning…,” Q mumbles sleepily once he’d finished shuffling into the kitchen. Q drops himself into the chair, waiting for his brain to finish booting up. His hair is in a state that rivalled Patrick’s.

“James still asleep?” Patrick asks nonchalantly.

“Mmm…” is all Q can manage before his morning cuppa. 

“Tired is he?” Patrick tries again. 

His son mumbles something that sounded like, “Must be.” Patrick thinks he looks like he’s about to face plant into his plate of toast and eggs. 

“Well… he is quite a bit older than you,” he peeks over his glasses at his son, “And you’re surprisingly demanding for a timid boy,” he continues gleefully. 

Pale green eyes slide up slowly to regard him. The red flush creeping up from the young man’s neck up to his ears - was proof that his son’s brain has finally come online. 

“No father should have to hear that,” he tells Q earnestly. 

“Dad!” Q hisses at his father.

“Not my fault these walls are thin!” Patrick laughs heartily. 

Fuming, Q eats his breakfast in mortified silence as a form of protest. Silent that is, until he notices what Patrick is reading on _his_ Q-Branch issued tablet. How did he unlock—?

“Dad! You’re not supposed to be looking at that. It’s classified!” The drawing on the tablet is clearly schematics for Herbie’s design and build. 

Patrick doesn’t look bothered. “The little fella wanted to show it to me. What am I supposed to say? No?” 

“Yes dad, you’re supposed to say NO,” Q scolds him. He’d clearly expected better from his father. He can be such an infuriating old geezer. Then to his robot, he admonishes in annoyance, “Herbie! Patrick doesn’t have clearance.”

:: But Patrick, Herbie’s Granpa :: Herbie argues back as if that reason alone should make it OK.

 _-Christ-_ “Granpa?” Q blinks incredulously. 

“I’ll take grandkids in any form at this rate,” Patrick sighs into his coffee. 

Q pinches his thumb and two fingers together to emphasise his next words, “Dad, just so you understand… you made, a classified government AI call you _Granpa_.”

Patrick just shrugs, eyes still unrepentantly studying the tablet, “Didn’t take much convincing.”

:: Granpa Patrick make Q ::

:: Q make Herbie ::

:: Granpa has clearance ::

Right, so that is what Herbie is basing this on. The parent-child data structure. He’s going to have sit Herbie down and explain that government clearance doesn’t work that way. 

“You know… if you added ultracapacitors into Herbie’s micro-servos, you could potentially increase the leaping distance. We’ve got super lightweight graphene ultra caps these days. You should take a look at them,” his father suggests helpfully. 

“Oh, and if you split the actuators to smaller units, but place more of them, it could allow Herbie greater control of directionality and improve fine motor movements.”

Despite his annoyance, he gets sidetracked by engineering talk, “Yes I did think of that. It’s just it’ll add to the cost and the Herbie units are supposed to be expendable,” _-Dammit-_ , he’s divulged more than he should. _When is the bloody caffeine going to kick in?_

“Oh, so you have _more_ spider bots?” _Why does his father have to be so observant?_

“Da-ad…,” Q warns him again. “Will you stop looking at that! Or James will have to—“ Q bites off the end of the sentence. _Bugger it!_

“To what?… Kill me?” Patrick jokingly finishes off the sentence for his son. Q just glares at him… 

Patrick’s mouth drops open forming a silent ‘O’ before whispering harshly, “Is THAT what he does??!”

_Fuck._

———

:: Why cut Quark-dog hair? ::

Herbie laments the loss of so much fur on the shaggy dog. From up on the bathroom counter, the spiderbot is throwing a tantrum about the whole haircut business - buzzing loudly against the countertop. 

“She’s grown too shaggy and she can't see where she’s going. Also, she’s tracking mud into the flat,” the goofy dog just sits obediently in the bathtub, oblivious to the argument. 

:: Quark-Dog cold :: Herbie protests again. 

She’ll be fine. I’m not shaving all of it. It’s just a trim.” Q regrets it as soon as he says it. He knows his AI and he knows Herbie is going to google ‘shaved dog’ and the tantrum is going to escalate. 

True enough the electric clippers lose power all of a sudden. Q hangs his head, flicking off the power button on the clippers for safety. He doesn’t need to look to know what happened, but he does anyway - and there is Herbie poised rebelliously over the switch of the power outlet. 

“Herbie… I’m not shaving the dog. It’s just a trim,” he reiterates, ”Look at the all the mud on Quark. And these little knots starting to form because of it. It will hurt her skin if it gets any bigger.” 

The AI isn’t convinced. :: Quark-dog need hair :: it argues stubbornly. 

“Look up matted dog. You’ll see that I’m preventing that from happening to Quark,” Q explains with the patience only people dealing with small children have. 

3…2…1. Herbie flicks the power switch back on. Q sighs with relief now that he’s gained Herbie’s approval for the task at hand. 

:: Only some hair ::

:: No shave ::

:: Quark minimum 4 inches hair ::

Herbie lays down the parameters for the haircut as it climbs onto the wall tiles looking for the optimum position to supervise. 

“Yes. Alright,” Q agrees in exasperation. Since when did the tables turn from him giving the orders to now the AI telling him what to do. What’s worse, the AI is so much like him that it makes him wonder if he’s really that annoying at times. He doesn’t dare ask James’ input on that though. 

James who is currently trying to eat breakfast and fend off probing questions from Patrick about his job. 

“So… like how often do you get sent into the ‘field’?” 

“Do you always get the ‘job’ done?”

He’ll have to apologise to James later. Q didn’t have time to warn him about Patrick’s renewed interest in him. But surely the seasoned agent can handle some light interrogation from a quirky old engineer. From inside the bathroom, he can hear Patrick ask inappropriately:

“Are you in a supervisory role or are you the ‘hands-on’ type?”

———FIN-----


End file.
